Poole, South West Coast Path, Dorset

We felt elated. After a fantastic meal last night at the pub, and a good night's sleep, we had Lyme Regis in our sights as our final destination. But first we had to walk down, yes down into Weymouth.

We set off through the trees before climbing back onto the cliffs.

A gentle stroll took us past the outdoor centre, and through the glamping campsite.

We didn't like the scar on the landscape caused by the cream cotton glamping tents. Why couldn't they be green so they blended in? We exchanged numerous banter with the campers. Yes we know, we're mad.

At Bowleaze Cove, the chance of coffee and yet more cake tempted us, and fuelled us for our walk along the promenade into the town, where the aroma of pasties filled our nostrils. Shall we? Why not. We needed to refuel again. By now it was hot, and we found ourselves dawdling. We'd planned to stop at Martleaves Farm campsite at Wyke Regis a few miles out of Weymouth, but when we arrived and were told the cost for two backpackers was £28.00 we declined. A nearby pub offered camping, their price £25.00. No way. The farm campsite had cost us £16.00 and Rosewall Camping, Osmington Mills which is an excellent campsite, £15.00. We were tired, sore, aching and felt that stopping now just past Weymouth was the right thing to do. So we caught a bus back into Weymouth, and took a train from the station back to Poole.

 It had taken us four days to walk here. Journey time on the train back to Poole, just under forty minutes. As the train passed alongside familiar roads, and through familiar towns we reflected. We'd walked fifty two miles in four days. Carried rucksacks weighing 15 plus KG. Somehow climbed the steepest inclines imaginable without suffering a heart attack. Survived a complete nervous breakdown and eaten more sugar, and carbs than should be good for you, and drunk literally litres of water resulting in many a 'wild wee'. We didn't feel disappointed we'd stopped. We felt relieved. The time was right. Our shoulders uncomfortable and our hips now almost in need of replacement, it was time to call it a day. But we'll be back. Next time with lighter backpacks. We also now know, a walk along the South West Coast Path is not like a stroll in the park. John will be seventy this coming Monday, the walk was part of the celebrations. We think for a couple of oldies, we did good. And as for the book we could write, we think Scratchy Bottom would be a good title!